Not a day for going out for tea
Nor chatting with some vigor on the phone.
Rain falls, variegated as green sea;
And dark earth takes it with a sighing moan.
Not a word from him whom I did love
Nor picture,image photograph or mail.
No cooing from a kindly turtle dove;
Just pain that feels some kinship with a nail.
Not thinking now nor feeling in my heart;
Not hoping,longing,wishing for his touch.
His last words hit me like a poisoned dart.
Now always I must keep far from his clutch.
Not tea nor even coffee did he brew
That has taught me more than I once knew